Managing Beauty
by Calex
Summary: Originally written as a birthday ficlet for Sharlene. Draco and Pansy being their usual bad selves in the Slytherin commonroom. It's not what you think.


Birthday Ficlet for Mynuet

Managing Beauty

Disclaimer: All is owned by JK Rowling. I don't own anything but this excuse of a plot

Oh dear Salazar. Did this girl really believe that... He shook his head. Looked at hear reproachfully, then sighed. Shook his head again. She raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for his response and he will give it to her... just after he got over what she said. He sighed in consternation and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I take it you're not pleased."

"You think?" he said, sarcastically. She scowled at him and flopped down gracefully on the sofa next to him. She kicked his hands off his lap and placed her feet daintily in their place. He looked down at her feet, glaring at the champagne nail polish on the well kept toes.

"Well?" she drawled. "Don't just stare at them. Put those hands of yours to work." He grumbled, but did as instructed, picking up one delicate foot and began his ministrations. Now, to any outsider, the sight of the cool and unflappable Draco Malfoy, flushed with indignation, muttering curses beneath his breath while competently giving Pansy Parkinson a foot rub was a foreign one, one they would not quite grasp totally. But this was the Slytherin common room, and those around were quite used to the sight. The only people who could completely and utterly flummox Draco Malfoy were Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and... a certain red-headed Gryffindor witch with cinnamon eyes.

"But seriously," Draco said, after some time. "You can't be serious, can you? You can't _honestly_ mean to go to the Yule ball with...with..." he scrunched his nose in disgust. "I always thought you had better taste."

"He has a name, Malfoy," she sighed. "Use it. And speaking of taste, I didn't act like a spoilt child who's just lost her toy when I found out that _you_ fancied the little Weaslette now, did I?"

"Girl Weasley is better than... than...."

"Neville Longbottom," Pansy said, irritatedly. "Say it with me. Ne-ville Long-bot-tom."

"I am _not_ illiterate," he said with equal irritation. "I know how to say the ponce's name."

"Then say it. And I'm going to ignore the fact that you called him a ponce, you git."

They sat in stony silence for a while, Draco's hands still methodically kneading at Pansy's foot. Then:

"You can't be serious, Pansy."

"Oh will you bloody well get over it?" she snapped. "It's not like it's such a huge revelation. You knew I had a soft spot for the little Gryffindor after that stint you put the two of us through to get Weaslette."

"Ginny," Draco said, automatically. Then scowled. "If I knew it would result to this, I'd never have had that blasted idea in the first place."

"Jealous, Malfoy?" she purred. Draco snorted.

"You wish."

"Oi!" Pansy looked put out. She dug her heel dangerously high up his thigh and Draco hissed. He glared at her.

"If you don't mind, I quite like to keep my ability to reproduce."

"Then watch what you say."

The two glared at each other, then Pansy sighed. She moved so that her head was now resting in his lap and looked up at him. Draco's hands had immediately went to her hair, playing with the fine blonde strands.

"You don't honestly mind, do you?"

"What, that you're going out with the Sir I'm-scared-of-my-own-shadow?" he shrugged. "Surprised, to be truthful. He isn't your usual type."

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean, you insufferable git?"

"What I mean is that he's not Flint. Or Pucey. Or even that 'Puff, Smith."

"What, mindless muscle bound idiots?" Pansy snorted. "Those three don't have half a brain if they put theirs together."

"Putting it like that, the Gryff does look promising," Draco admitted, grudgingly. Then he snorted. "My father would skin me alive if he knew that I said that."

"Isn't what passes for your conscience doing that already?" Pansy asked, sweetly. Draco retaliated by tugging at her hair sharply. Pansy sucked in a breath and hissed, her eyes narrowing to slits as she looked up at him. "That hurt."

"I thought you liked a bit of pain," Draco said, innocently. Then laughing, he messed up the perfect blonde coif in front of him. Pansy shrieked, jumping away from his lap as if he'd burnt her. Her hair in a dishevelled mess, she stood, breathing hard, eyes glinting and teeth bared in a snarl. Draco held still for a moment... then dived over the side of the sofa, Pansy diving along with him. The two rolled around the floor as both tried to gain the upper hand, Pansy using her well manicured nails as talons against any spare inch of bared flesh. Draco yelped as her nails raked across his collarbone, drawing blood. With any other girl, Draco would take care to hold them back, not to hurt them physically, but this was Pansy Parkinson, his best friend since they were toddler, he'd grown up with her. She was itching for a cat fight and he would give it to her. He _was_ gentler with her than he would be with, say, Blaise, but the two were seen exchanging blows and hisses and howls. Finally, Draco managed to get the upper hand, grabbing her wrists and rolling her so that she was pinned under his weight, her arms pinned over her head. she spat at him and he closed his eyes.

"That wasn't very nice," he drawled. Pansy growled. He sighed. "Alright, you know how I hate doing this...." He watched as Pansy's eyes widened and she gasped.

"You wouldn't dare..." she saw him whip out his wand and began to struggle, but he murmured a charm under his breath and she suddenly found herself unable to move. She wasn't completely stiff, so she knew it wasn't _Petrificus Totalis_ that he'd used. So it must be a variation of his own device... she moved around experimentally and discovered that the charm worked as though she was bound by invisible rope. She glared hatefully at the pale young man who stood up elegantly and brushed off his robes. "I don't know what you're planning, Malfoy, but I know that I don't like it."

"You know me too well now, my dear," he grinned. He shook his head. "My my. You've been a little hellion today, haven't you? I mean, look at me." His robes were torn in several places. Some ripped, others bared slash marks. His collarbones sported three ragged red scratches against all that pale skin, and he had scratches on his perfect face, as well.

"People get dirty when they roll in dirt," she snarled. He shook his head again, and sighed, but there was a glitter in his eyes that showed that he was going to enjoy what he was going to do, _very much._

"I did warn you." Before she could do anything, she found herself drenched in icy cold water and let out shriek of surprise and outrage. Pansy spluttered, screaming obscenities and threats that made even Draco's eyebrows raise. My my, indeed. Someone was a little bloodthirsty. He shuddered as he heard her say something particularly unpleasant that included his testicles, knives, stakes, food and force feeding. He let her scream out her anger at him and turned to the dark haired young man that stood next to him.

"And _that_," he said with a grimace. "Is how you manage beauty."

"Who am I supposed to be, the beast?" Neville asked, raising an eyebrow. He looked down at the red-faced beauty on the floor, still screaming and eyes shooting daggers. If looks could kill, Draco would be dead, 20 times over. "She's rather... sadistic, isn't she?"

"Better you know what you get yourself into, I say." Draco glanced around the room. Then stood up. "I'll leave her to cool down. Let's go out, and follow close behind. And for _Salazar's sake_, don't screw it up or I'd never live it down that I brought a bloody Gryff to the Slytherin common room." He sighed. "I'm letting my side down."

"Better you know what you get into," he mocked as he followed the blond boy out of the room, the others blissfully unaware of the body hiding under the invisibility cloak. "Dear Godrick, Malfoy. Your arse is huge." Draco merely snarled at him.


End file.
